That Day the Rabbi Left Town Read Free Page A

you’re retiring,” he said to the rabbi.
    â€œNews travels fast,” the rabbi remarked dryly.
    â€œIt does when you listen for it,” said Lanigan. “In a town this size with a small police force, we manage to stay on top of things by keeping our ears open. Sergeant Phelps heard a couple of your members talking about it down at the harbor as they were putting their boat in the water.” He sipped at the coffee Miriam had poured for him. “You planning to stay on, or you moving to Boston?”
    â€œTo tell the truth, I haven’t given the matter any thought,” said the rabbi. “It’s not easy staying around when you are rabbi emeritus. You’re a fifth wheel. I suppose that’s why so many rabbis go to Israel when they retire. But I like it here, so I expect I’ll stay on, at least for a while. I can drive in every day as I used to when I last taught at Windermere.”
    Lanigan shook his head doubtfully. “That was a few years back,” he said. “There’s been a pretty sizable increase in traffic since then, and this new tunnel they’re building hasn’t helped any.”
    â€œIt’s really bad now, David,” said Miriam. “I drove in the other day with Edie Bergson and we just inched along. We went by way of the bridge because she said the tunnel was worse. And in the winter when it snows …” Her voice trailed off as she thought of the hazard.
    â€œI’ll bet you could arrange for a ride in and a ride home every day,” said Lanigan. “Quite a few students from here go to Windermere, and several members of the faculty live here. There’s a Professor Miller on Evans Road. I could ask him for you.”
    â€œWhy don’t I wait and see how it goes. If the weather is bad, I can always go in by bus.”
    â€œThe bus goes by the old Boston Road and takes an hour and twenty minutes, and you end up at Haymarket and you’ve got to take the streetcar from there,” Lanigan pointed out.
    â€œWell, I could drive over to Swampscott station and take the train. It’s only twenty-three to twenty-five minutes by train,” said the rabbi.
    â€œYes, you could do that,” Lanigan admitted. “When is the new rabbi coming?”
    â€œI suppose sometime before the High Holidays. That’s right after Labor Day this year.”
    â€œHow is he chosen? Do you have a chief rabbi who picks one out for you?”
    â€œThey have one in England, and in France, and a couple of them in Israel, but we don’t have one here in the United States. Here every temple and synagogue is autonomous. It’s the Board of Directors through their Ritual Committee who select one from among those who apply or are available. Sometimes they have a likely candidate come down and celebrate a Sabbath so the whole congregation can judge him.”
    â€œIt seems a funny way to pick a spiritual leader,” Lanigan remarked with a shake of the head.
    â€œAh, but he isn’t a spiritual leader,” said the rabbi. “Nothing so grandiose. Basically, he’s supposed to be sufficiently learned in the law so that he can sit in judgment, although here in America he rarely does. So he does other things: He may be the voice of the congregation in dealing with the rest of the community; he presides at weddings and funerals; he gives sermons during the Sabbath services, following the example of the Christian clergy.” He chuckled. “Most of all, in congregations like the one here, he’s supposed to be the one practicing Jew.”
    â€œThen I’ll have to make a point of getting acquainted with this new guy when he comes,” said Lanigan.
    â€œI hope it won’t be the way you got acquainted with me,” said the rabbi, thinking back to his first year when the body of a young woman was found on the temple grounds.
    Lanigan grinned sourly.

Chapter 3
    It was after the departmental